


Inside the Animator

by Riven_Charlatan



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Comfort/Angst, M/M, Men Crying, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riven_Charlatan/pseuds/Riven_Charlatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terry Gilliam doesn't quite fit in and his secret crush only makes things worse on this day of unexpected situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shattered

Terrence Vance Gilliam started the day by yawning and stretching, unaware that this was going to be one roller coaster ride of a day for his emotions. He shuffled down the hallway towards the bathroom to have a wash up, when he heard voices. He paused to listen and determined they were coming from Eric's room. Ordinarily he would not have eavesdropped however he had heard something that stopped him in his tracks. He silently stood outside the slightly cracked open door.  
“All I'm saying is-maybe you might be getting tired of child minding the American?” the unmistakable voice of John growled.  
“I'm not his baby sitter! He's my friend!” Eric snapped back.  
“I know, but doesn't it get tiresome? Day in and day out?” John sighed, “All that craziness? All the childish nonsense?”  
“Look, I enjoy Terry's company- he's different- refreshing!” Eric countered.  
“How on earth do you manage to have a decent conversation?” John wondered aloud.  
“What do you mean?” Eric asked.  
“I mean, 'hey you guys, a whole bunch of water…' that's what I mean.” quoting a Gilliam-ism and reminding him of Terry's less than stellar description of the lakes as seen from an airplane.  
Terry suddenly felt very uncomfortable. What John couldn't possibly know is that Terry's brain upon seeing the aforementioned body of water simply blew up with thoughts: “Oh- how beautifully the light sparkles off the water!” “What an amazingly deep shade of blue!” “This is the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen and I feel so alive right now!” “I really feel as if I'm flying, without an airplane, looking down on all this glorious water through the clouds.” His natural sense of wonder, curiosity and enthusiasm having kicked on full force. Obviously he had wanted to share this wondrous sight with his friends but sometimes thoughts can't be transferred to words as easily as they can works of art, thus- instead of any of those intelligent statements coming out of his mouth in his excitement, all they got was, “hey you guys, a whole bunch of water!”  
“I mean really?” John continued. “Water doesn't even come in bunches. What is that? A bunch of water? How do you carry a bunch of water?”  
“I don't know, but I knew what he meant.” Eric argued.  
“That's as may be, but the fact remains you spend a lot of time with him, and no one else...” John's voice trailed off as Terry felt his face flush with embarrassment and he ran back to his room.  
Once inside Terry allowed himself to be upset, if John felt that way, who else felt that way? He didn't want to see anyone for a while but as today was another day of Python meetings…and he was already dreading it, he decided he wasn't going to show up. Having any sort of discussion on what sketches to use and where only ended up in showing the clashing personalities of his friends and the words could come out scathing and scorching anyone in their path. Terry didn't like confrontation and was happy that he never had to present anything to them, but sometimes being counted as one of the odd votes could get tricky. He already felt that the others had a low opinion of his intelligence and days like this just made him cringe. He decided to be sick today.  
He rolled back over, not even bothering to turn on the light. He snuggled deeper under his covers and shut out the world. Truth was he was just tired of pretending to be happy all the time. He never liked showing his emotions to the others, afraid to be labeled as “weak” as well as “unintelligent.” However recently he had been feeling more and more left out. Eric and he had become very close except that now Eric had developed a serious crush on John and spent most of his time when they weren't working on stalking the tall comedian silently from the shadows. This left Terry with a lot of alone time, far too much alone time. When he was alone he started to think about how he didn't really fit in here, in this foreign country, with these strange people. And once he realized that he didn't even fit in among these misfits it started to depress him.  
He fell back asleep and was woken a few hours later by a knock at his door.  
“Go away.” he mumbled in reply as soon as he was awake enough to register what was going on. But the knocking continued.  
The door opened and the light was flipped on. Terry burrowed deeper under his covers.  
“Hey, mate… It's time to get up!” Eric said cheerily.  
“No.” Came Gilliam's muffled reply. “Don't feel well.”  
“What's wrong?” Eric asked, concerned, as he pulled back the covers.  
Terry shivered at the blast of cold air that washed over him as the warmth of his cocoon was ripped away. “Cold. Tired. Sleepy.” he grunted.  
“Are you sick?” Eric asked.  
“Dunno.” Terry answered vaguely.  
Eric attempted to reach out and feel the artist's forehead.  
Terry pushed his arm aside. “I'm fine.” he said softly.  
“You don't look fine. You don't even sound fine.” Eric replied.  
“I think I should stay in bed.”  
“Are you gonna vomit?” Eric inquired.  
“Might.” Gilliam answered, hoping that would make Eric go away.  
“Maybe you're hungry. It's almost noon and you've not had anything to eat since… well, I don't know since when because you didn't come to supper either.” Eric pointed out.  
“Not hungry.”  
“Are you sure you're all right?” Eric put a comforting hand on the smaller man's back and rubbed in a circular motion.  
“Yeah, just… wiped out.” Terry shrugged.  
“Well… I still think you should try to eat something. How about I bring you some tea and biscuits?” Eric offered.  
“Nah. I'll come out when I get hungry enough.” Gilliam answered dully.  
Eric slid his hand up and ruffled Terry's long hair. “Well if you feel better we'll be out in the patio, you know, discussing things.”  
“ 'K.” Terry answered in the hopes that Eric would just leave him alone. Eric covered him back up and rubbed his shoulder for moment.  
“Are you sure you're all right? I mean I have a few minutes until I'm expected at the meeting...” Eric paused in case Gilliam wanted to talk.  
“Yeah. I'm fine.” Terry insisted.  
“Still don't believe you. But clearly you don't want to talk to your best friend.” Eric tried to guilt him into talking.  
Terry sighed, “That was a low blow.”  
“I know. I'm good at low blows.” Eric said mischievously.  
In spite of himself Gilliam laughed at that.  
“Filthy mind, Gilliam!” Eric laughed.  
“I know who you want to blow...” Terry grinned back.  
“Aha! I knew I could do it! A smile!” Eric winked at him.  
“OK, you've tamed the sullen American...” Terry conceded.  
“Knew I would, knew I would!” Eric teased.  
“Have fun at the meeting, or at least stay safe.” Terry nodded,  
“I'll try. You feel better.” Eric stood up.  
“I'll try.” Terry echoed. Eric turned out the light and shut the door quietly behind him.


	2. Dimensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... things are revealed.

Eric arrived in the patio and everyone was already waiting. “Hello.” he waved at them.  
“Where's Gilliam?” John demanded.  
“Uh, he's not feeling well, so I let him sleep.” Eric shrugged.  
“Fine, It's not like he contributes much anyway.” John rolled his eyes.  
“Hang on, that's not fair.” Eric defended. “Terry does what we ask of him. We ask for pretty pictures- he draws them. We ask for opinions on things- he gives them.”  
“Well since he can't be bothered to be here now, I assume he's doing something far more important.” John snapped back.  
“How exactly is he not feeling well?” Graham suddenly chimed in.  
“I don't know. He was really vague in his Gilliamesque way. He just said he was tired and cold.” Eric responded.  
“Hmm.” Graham took a long draw on his pipe.  
“So anyway...” John interrupted. “Can we get on with this?”  
“John, who made you in charge? Maybe we want to take a moment to discuss that Gilliam hasn't been around much lately.” Jones interjected.  
“He's barely around when he is around.” John sighed.  
“John, Eric is right, Gilliam does what we ask of him, and not much more. I think maybe he's feeling, I don't know, left out?” Michael said thoughtfully.  
“We have important stuff to discuss, not the mental health of a moody artist.” John snapped.  
“John you're such an insensitive twat!” Jones snapped.  
“Have to agree with Jones on that.” Graham nodded.  
“Maybe we've been teasing Gilliam too much!” Michael worried.  
“I think maybe you're right. I think he feels… unimportant.” Eric agreed.  
“I'll have a drink on it.” Graham said, pun intended. “Meanwhile let's carry on with our meeting.”

 

Terry looked out his window at the scene below, thankful he could not hear them. He sighed heavily and went to his drawing table. He flipped open his sketchbook. “If only I could tell him how I feel.” Terry said as he stared at the picture he'd lovingly sketched out of the man he'd fallen for. “But… you know you'd only be rejected, you monosyllabic farm boy from Minnesota. No one like HIM would ever like someone like YOU.” His mind berated him for his ridiculous fantasy. He had never thought he would find himself attracted to another man, in fact he hadn't really known any men who were like that back home, always being the good boy his parents raised him to be. Going to church, being a kid for far longer than he should have… in fact he felt like in some ways he was still very much clinging to that child like innocence, afraid of growing up.  
But then he came to England, and it was, well, culture shock to say the least. He didn't fit in and he knew it. But the beauty of England, and the people, and it was all so exciting… he loved being here but yet he felt so alienated at the same time.  
He stared at the picture of his friend that he'd secretly drawn. Secretly because like all great works of art- the figure in the sketch was completely nude. Gilliam had never really questioned his sexuality before, assuming he was straight… but then… he had met the most eloquent, beautiful, brilliant man. It was instant fascination. He felt drawn to this man in ways he'd never felt before. The more he got to know him, the more fascinated he became. Of course he could never tell him that so instead he chose to live in agonizing, silent, pining heartache. He tried to imagine what would happen if he could ever get up the courage to talk to him about his feelings, but he couldn't foresee a positive outcome. They were worlds apart. Besides, a man like him deserved far better than a crazy little weirdo like himself. But he could still appreciate the object of his affection from afar.  
He added some shading to his pencil drawing and lost himself in the freeing creative process. Art, for him, was a way to relieve his pent up frustrations. He hated that he couldn't express himself as eloquently as his friends. He hated that he always ended up sounding like he was stupid when he tried to talk to them. But he just got flustered and tongue tied because they were so damn intimidating. He lost track of time as he worked on his picture.   
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Terry had a moment of panic as he slammed the sketchbook shut and shoved it down behind the table. He dove across the room and into bed. He hurriedly slid under the covers, “C'min” he called.  
Terry Jones entered. “Hello… You not feeling well?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Sorry to hear that. You know I've often wondered why you don't come out and socialize with us more often,” Jonesy said.  
“Uh- busy.” Gilliam replied.  
“Too busy for your friends, eh?” Jones admonished.  
“Um...”  
“And how come you don't date then?” Jones inquired as he sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“Um..”   
“You're a man of many words, aren't you?” Jones snickered.  
“I- uh- busy.” Gilliam shrugged.  
“Really? What are you so busy doing? Because Mike and I would really like to spend some time with you.”  
“You would?” It sounded more desperate than he had intended it to.  
“Yes. So, have you ever dated anyone?”  
“What?” Gilliam was confused at the change in questioning.  
“Have you ever dated anyone?”  
“Yes.”  
“Have you ever… done it? Nudge nudge?” Jones winked at him.  
“Ummmm.”  
“There you go again.” Jones teased.  
Gilliam chuckled nervously as he felt himself blush.  
“Well have you?”  
“N...no.”   
“Why on earth not? Its great fun!” Jones laughed.  
“Um- waiting on the right person, I guess.” Gilliam mumbled.  
“Ah- haven't found her yet?” Jones elbowed him in the side.  
“No, I've found him.” Gilliam said before he could stop himself, then he silently prayed that the words had stayed in his head and not escaped his lips.  
“Ooooh...” Jones intoned in a singsong voice.  
Gilliam blushed deeper still. And then he giggled.  
“Don't worry, we're all a bunch of great poofs.” Jones smiled. “In fact Mike and I are a “thing.” And if you didn't already have someone in mind, we'd have been happy to teach you a thing or two, nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more.” Jones patted Gilliam's arm.  
“I'm sorry, what?”  
“Mikey and I would like to shag you. You're adorable. But alas you have your heart set on someone, so how do I help that to happen?” Jones waggled his eyebrows.  
“You can't. It's unrequited.” Gilliam answered.  
“OOH I knew you could use big words, John owes me a fiver, see I'm on your side.”  
Gilliam giggled again.  
“How do you know its unrequited?” Jones asked.  
“I just do. He would never like me, I'm not his type.”  
“You're not going to tell me are you? Jones scowled.  
Gilliam shook his head no.  
“You're no fun!” Jones scolded. “But I will find out, and I will help you.”  
“Please don't. I'd rather stay at least friends with him.” Gilliam pleaded.  
“Aha, so it's someone you're close to, that narrows it down!” Jones said triumphantly.  
“Waghhhhh!” Gilliam blurted out in frustration that he'd been duped into divulging information.  
Jones just laughed. “If you're feeling better, I'd really like it if you came down to late lunch/ afternoon tea.”  
“If I do will you let it drop?” Gilliam moaned.  
“For now...”


	3. Changeable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry tries to shrug it off and fails...

Terry got cleaned up and dressed and slipped into the living room where Graham and Michael were already sitting. Michael had a tea cup in his hand, Graham- a whiskey bottle.  
“Hello, want a cuppa?” Mike asked.  
Terry grabbed the whiskey bottle from Graham's hand, startling him. The artist chugged a rather sizable amount and coughed violently for his effort. He placed the bottle back into Graham's hand sheepishly.  
“Feel better?” Graham chuckled.  
“Not at all.” Terry conceded.  
“Best eat a biscuit or you'll be sick.” Eric cautioned from behind him.  
“Already am.” Terry grunted.  
“I'll go get you some proper food.” Mike offered as he bounded out of the room towards the kitchen.  
Eric frowned at Terry, “You're really acting weird today.”  
“Cuz I'm weird.” Terry shrugged, “Regular little freak.”  
Eric tilted his head in confusion. Terry was really out of sorts. “Are you sure...” he started.  
“Yes I'm sure, I don't want to talk about it!” Terry said as he slunk down onto the sofa.  
“Well fine then!” Eric stormed off into the kitchen.  
“Vance...” Graham called softly. He always called Terry by his middle name to avoid confusion with the other Terry.  
“What?” Terry answered sullenly.  
“Are you really not feeling well?” Graham asked.  
“Yeah. I feel like shit.”  
“Brown and squishy then?” Graham joked,  
Terry gave a half-hearted smile.  
“Been meaning to ask you something.” Graham began. “You know we've been deciding what sketches to include in the live show...”  
“That's nothing to do with me.” Terry interrupted.  
“But it does. You are part of this group too. Some of us do value your input now and then.” Graham answered.  
“Sure.” Terry muttered.  
“I know that you've said no in the past, but I'm asking you to reconsider, would you like to perform with us this time?” Graham offered. “Nothing too big, just some little stuff?”  
“Y-you want m-me to… to act?” Terry stammered and blushed. “Live- in front of real people?”  
“Yes, I think you can be quite funny when you want to be.” Graham smiled.  
Terry giggled awkwardly in the ensuing silence. “But...” he finally found his voice again, “Is everyone else okay with that?”  
“Yes we all agreed that we'd like you more involved.” Graham answered.  
“All of you?” Terry answered suspiciously.  
“Well- yes-” Graham hesitated. “Why?”  
“I just thought that maybe… oh never mind.” Terry shrugged.  
“You thought maybe what?” Graham pushed.  
“I- I thought maybe… some might have objected to the 'stupid American' artist trying to be an actor… that's all.” Terry replied softly.  
“What's that all about? You're not stupid.” Graham replied, genuinely shocked. “Why would you say that?  
Terry shifted nervously. His hands were sweaty and he was feeling more embarrassed by the minute. “Everyone else seems to think I am...” he said sharply as he turned his face away from Graham and buried it in the arm of the sofa not wanting Graham to see the anguished look.  
“Who's everyone? I don't. Eric doesn't. Mike and Terry don't. John doesn't.” Graham was very confused at this point.  
“Ok not everybody, just someone. Someone really important. Someone I don't want to piss off.” Terry tried to keep his voice steady so Graham wouldn't guess he was trying to blink back tears of frustration and pain. Terry felt the presence of someone behind him on the sofa. A strong, comforting hand began to stroke his long hair gently. For a moment his breath caught in his throat. When he remembered to breathe it was more of a gasp than a breath.  
“Vance, what is going on? You've become less yourself lately.” Graham whispered softly.  
“Maybe I'd rather be someone else.” Terry managed to squeak out.  
“Who?”  
“I don't know- anyone.” It was more bitter than he'd intended it to sound.  
“Why?”  
“Because.” Gilliam said through clenched teeth, willing away the tears.  
“That's not an answer.” Graham coaxed. “Stop being so hard on yourself...”  
“I'll stop being hard on myself when you stop drinking!” Terry spat out. He was instantly sorry for that. “Graham- I- I- I'm so sorry.”  
Graham stood up and retreated back to the armchair.  
“Why am I so completely stupid?” Terry cried as he got up and ran out of the room.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry helps a friend and then goes for a late night drink...

Later that evening Eric sighed as he stared at John who was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. It was not readily apparent as to what was causing John's pacing. John's energy always came in spurts of creative genius and Eric admired that about him. “John? Are you okay? Do you need some help?” he offered.  
“No no no no no.” John replied. “I'm just thinking, I think better on my feet.”  
“Suit yourself.” Eric shrugged. “I'm off to find someone less… agitated.”  
“I am NOT agitated!” John asserted roughly as Eric left the room.  
Eric wandered down the hall to Gilliam's room. He knocked.  
“C'min.” came the American's reply.  
“What are you up to then?” Eric asked as he walked around behind the artist to see what he was drawing. He saw a very nice drawing of Graham, however he was completely nude. “Ooh...” he said in shock.  
“I'm an artist, can't I appreciate the beauty of the human body in male form?” Terry asked, giggling.  
“I know how much you appreciate THAT particular male human body.” Eric teased. “But, um… you've taken to drawing your fantasies now?”  
Terry blushed. “Well they're all I have...”  
“Why don't you just tell him?” Eric shook his head. “I mean he couldn't be any more out of the closet.”  
“Why don't you tell John then? Hmm?” Terry shot back.  
“Because John's not gay.”  
“Bet he is.” Terry challenged. “Bet that's why he's so uptight.”  
“He is not. Come off it.” Eric answered.  
“Yes he is.”  
“No he bloody well isn't!”  
“What if I told you I had proof?” Terry smiled.  
“Proof? What proof?” Eric asked, half accusatory, half intrigued.  
“You know how you've been getting gifts, mysterious ones?” Terry asked.  
“Yes...”  
“Like candy, little soft toys, and all that...”  
“Get on with it...” Eric stamped his foot impatiently.  
“I bet you that within the half hour a delivery man shows up at the door with flowers for you.” Terry grinned.  
“Why?”  
“Because I followed John the other day and he went to the florist.” Terry concluded.  
“Well did you follow him inside? He could be sending them to his mother.” Eric pointed out.  
“And… I saw him throw away a receipt last week from the toy department...”  
“Doesn't he have any nieces or nephews?” Eric replied, not daring to hope that maybe John was behind all the strange gifts he'd been receiving.  
“Face facts, John has a crush on you, with your long hair and pretty eyelashes.” Terry joked.  
“I'll believe it when I see it.” Eric said stubbornly. “But you changed the subject we were talking about your almost fanatical devotion to Graham.”  
“I've told you, I'm not his type.” Terry frowned.  
“Who told you that?” Eric scolded.  
“I did.”  
“Well, you're wrong.” Eric prodded.  
“Am not. Why would he ever like me?”  
“Why wouldn't he? Terry, you are far more amazing than you give yourself credit for.” Eric patted his friend on the shoulder.  
“Aren't you impressed that I've been spying on John for you?” Terry tried to change the subject.  
“Don't you do that!” Eric snapped. “I want to know why you feel that way.”  
“We're like oil and water. He's refined and valuable like oil and I'm as common as dirty water.” Terry answered sadly.  
“No you aren't. You are the least common person I know. You're a creative powerhouse of ideas. You are awesome in ways they haven't even invented words for yet. Look at the bleedin' drawing you just made...” Eric pointed out.  
“Any monkey can draw if you give him a crayon. But Graham has a poetic soul, words flow out of him like a volcano spews lava, words that can be beautiful and devastating, words that can paint a picture in your brain simply by the way he pronounces them...” Gilliam trailed off.  
“You're going to self destruct if you don't tell him soon.” Eric said worriedly.  
“Who says I haven't already descended into madness?”  
“Don't even joke about that. I have the feeling that when you hit bottom, it's not pretty.” Eric cautioned.  
Terry shrugged in reply. Then the doorbell rang. Once. Twice.  
“Eric?” John called down the hallway, “Would you be a dear and answer that?”  
Eric looked at Terry in disbelief.  
Terry grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Eric ran down the hall and opened the door on the fourth ring. “Hello, yes?”  
“Is there an Eric Idle here?”  
“Uh- yes, I am he.”  
“Right, this is for you.” the delivery man handed a bouquet of roses over.  
“Thanks...” Eric shut the door and stared down stunned by the beauty of the flowers. The attached card read, “Nudge, nudge, wink, wink… meet me by the kitchen sink.”  
“Well?” Gilliam crept up behind him.  
“I'm to meet someone in the kitchen...” Eric said bewildered.  
“Get to it then!” Terry gave him a playful shove.  
“But you and I were in the middle of a discussion.” Eric stalled.  
“I've used up my allotted number of words today.” Terry joked. “Don't worry about me, just go.”  
Eric wandered to the kitchen not daring to hope that Terry had been right about John. He swung the door open slowly where John was waiting with a vase. “Do you like them?”  
“Very much.” Eric nodded.  
“Good. I'd hoped you would. There's no easy way to say what I'm about to say...” John paused.  
“John- I have a very big crush on you.” Eric blurted out.  
“Ah- well that's made this infinitely easier then, jolly good. I am rather in love with you.” John said.  
“You are? That's good because it's way more than a crush… I've been pining for you for a while now.  
“Ah, pine no more, good fellow. Would you like to come back to my place?” John winked.  
“Say no more...” Eric grinned. “I'd love to snuggle and maybe watch some telly?”  
“Sounds like a very enjoyable evening indeed.” John stepped closer and then leaned down and kissed Eric full on the lips.  
Eric's head was spinning and he felt John's strong arms slip around his waist to hold him up. They walked down the hall to John's room and went inside.

Gilliam smiled at Eric's happiness. But then glumly realized he now had no one to spend the night with. Graham wasn't home so Terry assumed that he was out at the bar as usual. Though Graham hadn't been going there as much lately. Terry made up his mind that he would go to the bar too, if Graham was there at least he could stare from afar, right? He went out the door hoping his courage would hold fast, but Eric was right he was slowly self destructing. It was difficult to be in this foreign country where he felt so out of place, and he longed for someone to make it feel like home. He didn't know how to act or speak without sounding dumb. He had always had difficulty expressing himself and his thoughts and emotions, but when faced with intimidating men like John and Graham he was truly stumped as to how to behave or what to say. He desperately wanted them to like him, he needed them to like him. But he couldn't figure out how he fit in. When he had first met the others John and Graham had been close and Terry Jones and Michael and Eric had been close, but Eric right away thrust himself at the shy American and dragged him, kicking and screaming out of his shell. Terry didn't know where tonight would lead him but he set out for an adventure.


	5. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of a night out alone...

Graham took a break from his book to glance at the clock. “2 in the Am… should be asleep...” he thought. He had been trying to distract himself from thinking about his friend upon whom he had developed a hopeless attraction. Graham couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that had first attracted him. Perhaps the man's usually flamboyant personality, or his vulnerability that he tried to hide, or his unbounded creativity, or his willingness to do whatever one required of him? Maybe it was the fact that Graham recognized in his friend's eyes the same loneliness and longing that he held within himself? Or perchance it was how gosh darned adorable he was when he was being awkward? Graham was never quite sure what caused the awkwardness, was it because he was American or because he was desperately trying to fit in and was super nervous about it?   
Terry Vance Gilliam was a complete puzzle to him and he had never met anyone even remotely like him. The man could be outgoing and chatty one minute and then brooding and mysterious the next. Sometimes when he was attempting to talk a lot and he devolved into giggles, stammering and fidgeting, he would become very animated. “Animated- pun intended...” Graham chuckled to himself. Terry was never far from his sketchbook, and Graham longed to see what he was always doodling. Whenever he suggested having a look, Terry would blush and say, “Oh, it's not all that good...” giving a shy smile. Terry's smile… could melt Graham. Because he didn't use it very often when he did it was sincere and beautiful, and it made his eyes sparkle. There was always that duality with Gilliam, he could appear so innocent, almost child like and excitable, but then you could sense the darker side and the naughty wickedness too. Graham was fascinated. It was impossible to predict what he would do next, in fact Graham was certain that Terry himself never knew what he was going to do next.  
Graham sighed. He often wondered what little Vance would do if he were to sweep him off his feet in an embrace and kiss him passionately. He had no idea of the artist's preferences, because he never seemed to want to talk about that. But Graham really wanted to know. He desired to hold Vance close and hear his cute American accent whisper, “I love you, Graham.” He longed to stroke the long, soft brown hair and stare into his expressive eyes without the other man shying away. Was Gilliam a tortured genius like himself?  
His musings were interrupted by a soft almost inaudible knock at his door. “Come in.” Graham called.  
The door creaked open, someone stumbled in, looked as if they were trying to make it to the bed and then spectacularly fell down flat, disappearing to the floor. Graham rocketed up and raced around to the other side of the bed. He gasped when he recognized the prone form of Terry Gilliam face down on the floor. “Vance? Are you okay?”  
“No.” came the slightly muffled reply. Graham knelt down and gingerly helped the smaller man to his feet. He was taken aback by what he saw. There was a bleeding gash above Terry's left eye, his cheek was bruised badly along the bone, his clothes were torn and dirty and his hair unnaturally messed. Terry whimpered slightly as he limped while Graham helped him to lie down on the bed.  
Terry's shirt was torn and mostly unbuttoned, leaving his chest exposed. “What on earth happened?” Graham inquired.  
“Got beat up.” Terry replied quietly. It was then that Graham noticed the redness around his friend's eyes and how the tears mingled with the blood dripping from his eyebrow.  
“By whom?”  
“Guys.”  
“Where?”  
“Bar.”  
“Why?”  
“C… cuz I'm a Yankee.” Terry sniffed, avoiding any more tears.  
“Can I examine you?” Graham asked, worriedly.  
“Please.” Terry answered.  
“Where were you?” Graham tried again as he got a towel and some water.  
“Having a drink. I didn't care what kind of bar it was, I just needed a drink.” Terry replied.  
“What kind of bar was it, then?”  
“Gay bar. And these big guys came in and started calling us all dirty names. And I said we were-all... all just drinking what did it matter what we liked in the sack? And… and he realized I was American and he grabbed me by my hair and threw me down.” Terry explained.  
“Oh, Vance. I'm sorry.” Graham frowned. Terry had been sort of defending the others' right to be gay, and that gave Graham hope.  
“Not your fault. They said a bunch of stuff I don't want to repeat and kept insisting I was also a fairy. They dragged me outside and...beat me up, then forced me to crawl until I was out of their sight, throwing things at me the whole time. I think they must have hit me in the head...maybe? I don't know? Maybe with a bottle or something, since I'm bleeding. But they stole my money so I had to walk home.”  
Graham gently cleaned the gash on his head. “Its not too bad, I don't think you need stitches just a good clean and some bandages.” He gently prodded the bruise on Terry's cheek. Terry winced at the touch. “Sorry. Making sure there's no fracture.” Graham then got his reading light from the bedside stand and shone it into Terry's eyes. “No concussion, as of yet, but I'd advise you to stay in here tonight so I can keep an eye on that.”  
“Whatever you say, Graham.” Terry answered. “I trust you.”  
“Did they hurt you anywhere else?” Graham was ecstatic to hear that Terry trusted him.  
Terry nodded. “All over.”  
“How much do you trust me?” Graham asked.  
“What do you mean?”   
“Well, if you want me to examine the rest of you, you'll have to undress. Afraid I haven't got x-ray vision.” Graham pointed out.  
“Oh… oh yeah.” Terry attempted to smile.  
Graham gently lifted Terry forward and after the remaining buttons had been freed, he slipped the shirt off and set his patient back down easy. There was some bruising to Terry's arms and chest and right above his ribcage on the right side. Further investigation led Graham to believe it was just a severe bruise. “I- uh- I noticed that you were limping as I brought you over here?”  
“My knee. It hurts… a bunch”  
“Ah… again I can't see through… I mean… you might have to… can I roll up your pant leg? No too tight...” Graham fidgeted.  
“I- I can just take my pants off… I mean if that- that might help or something?” Terry interjected.  
“Would help, yes, just didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” Graham replied.  
“Uncomfortable? Why would it?” Terry looked puzzled.  
“Well uh- you know… I am … I have a reputation… I- I'm...” Graham fumbled.  
“Because you're gay? Why should that bother me?”  
“It bothers most straight men.” Graham sighed.  
“I'm not.” Terry replied unhelpfully.  
“Bothered or straight?” Graham chuckled, making a joke of it.  
“Yes.” Terry answered, coyly.  
Graham felt his heart skip a beat. Did he have a chance after all? Terry gingerly slid his pants off, moaning a little at the movement. All he had left was his underwear now, and socks.  
Graham felt Terry's kneecap, “I think it's badly sprained, but not broken. All in all I'd say you were lucky tonight.”  
“Me too.” Terry blushed slightly. “Lucky that you were still awake...”  
“Oh, haha...” Graham chuckled awkwardly.  
He finished bandaging Terry's leg and asked, “Do you need anything? Pajamas? Cup of tea?”  
“Just a blanket… and maybe… your soothing voice.” Terry answered.  
“You don't have a concussion do you? I mean you aren't nauseated, dizzy or feeling sluggish?” Graham double checked. It would be just his luck if Gilliam started flirting because he was out of his mind.  
“I feel much better now. Thanks.” Terry answered.  
“Good. Good.” Graham lay down on the other side of the bed. They lay in silence for a while.  
“I'm a little cold.” Terry finally said.  
“Well we could share this blanket and body heat if you wish?” Graham invited.  
Terry's answer was to slide across the bed and under Graham's quilt. Graham put an arm out and Terry lay across it, snuggled against Graham's chest. “Vance… you seem… different...”  
“I'm not giving up the moment I've been dreaming about for anything.” he smiled up at Graham.  
“Dreaming about? Me?” Graham asked, shocked.  
“You had me at hello. I respect you so much, I love your accent, your wit, everything about you. I've just been… afraid to tell you. I mean why would someone as great as you want someone like me? I can barely rub two words together to make a sentence.” Terry buried his face in Graham's side.  
“Vance… I love you. I've loved you for a while now. But I didn't know you liked guys so I didn't say anything.”  
“I love you too, Graham.” Terry popped his head back up and smiled.  
Graham soothingly rubbed Terry's shoulders and back, enjoying the feel of the bare skin beneath his touch.  
“But I… I have to admit I just lied to you before. I knew what kind of bar it was, I went looking for you. I didn't want you to feel bad about it so I left that out.” Terry frowned. “I'm sorry.”  
“Good lord, don't be sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I've been slowly weaning myself away from those places, I've discovered there's more enjoyable things in life. Things like this, here, right now, you in my arms, having a heart to heart chat.” Graham stroked Terry's long hair back from his face.  
He was rewarded by an even brighter smile from his companion. “Before the guys came in who beat me up- some of your friend's wanted to know why I was looking for you. I said I had a crush on you.” Terry blushed deeper and giggled.  
“You're adorable, Vance.” Graham grinned.  
“So are you… Gray.” Terry hesitated, it was the first time he'd ever used Graham's nickname.  
Graham suddenly pulled Terry close and kissed him passionately.  
“Good thing I'm lying down, cuz I just went weak in the knees.” Terry breathed after the kiss.


	6. Punchline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes reference to the "History of the Joke" Sketch as seen in Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl. I couldn't find that particular version on YouTube to link sorry.

Gilliam had drifted off to a peaceful sleep resting in Graham's strong arms. They were awakened the next morning when John barged into the room.  
“Gray! You'll never guess what happened last night!” he intoned loudly.  
This startled Terry awake and he jumped, hurting his injuries from last night. Graham put out an arm to steady his partner. John stared at them. He looked at the bed, then to the floor where Terry's clothes were in a heap by his own foot. John opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again but no words came forth.  
“What happened last night?” Graham yawned.  
“I could jolly well ask you the same thing!” John snapped back.  
“I found a new baby sitter, thought you'd be happy.” Terry suddenly blurted out. “Oh God...” he thought, “Why did you say that you idiot?”  
“Did… did Eric tell you about that?” John looked wounded.  
“No. I heard you.” Gilliam sulked.  
“Heard him what?” Graham asked reaching his arm around the smaller man next to him.  
“You weren't supposed to hear that.” John defended.  
“Well I did.” Terry spat back, equally wounded as John had been two seconds earlier.  
“What have you done to my Vance?” Graham demanded.  
“I was talking with Eric and well… I was… jealous I suppose… jealous that every time I wanted to talk to Eric he was with Gilliam. So I was expressing my frustrations… to Eric about it… and… I… I may have been a bit cruel. I'm sorry, Terry. I didn't mean what I said.” John explained.  
Terry didn't really believe his sincerity on the matter but he also didn't want this to linger, John was rubbish at apologies. Terry shook his head to indicate “ok.”  
“Right- um- anyway… I just came in to tell you that you were right Gray. Eric does fancy me. Takes one to know one I guess?” John cleared his throat.  
“Good maybe you'll be less of a crotchety old stick now.”Graham answered, clearly angry with him for upsetting the sensitive artist again after what he'd already been through. “You do realize you haven't even asked why he's all beaten up? I could see that even if I was drunk off my arse.”  
“I- I didn't want to ask. Are you all right?” John replied.  
“Yeah.”  
“Good, are we going to do some rehearsing today then?” John turned his attention back to business as was more comfortable for him.  
“Yes, eventually.” Graham answered as he gently pulled Terry close and kissed his ear.  
Terry giggled.  
John left.  
They snuggled in silence a while longer. “Whatever he said. Just forget it.” Graham finally spoke.  
“It isn't that easy.” Terry replied.  
“Then I'll make you forget it...” Graham kissed him again. It was a long and involved kiss. Terry made a satisfied “Mmm” noise. Graham's hands tangled in Terry's long hair as their lips opened and their tongues met.  
“No time for that!” John knocked loudly again.  
“How did he know?” Terry looked at Graham in surprise.  
“Because John knows me.” Graham sighed.  
Terry got dressed in his pants from last night with Graham's help, but his shirt was basically a tattered mess. Graham gave him one of his to put on. It was a t-shirt that Graham wore often that read: Everybody needs something to suck on.  
They made their way down to the kitchen where the others were laughing and talking already.  
Graham took Terry's smaller hand in his and the artist looked up at him inquisitively.  
“Everyone is happy now, there's no need to hide from our friends.” Graham smiled.  
They entered the room together and everyone stopped speaking. John was holding Eric's hand. Terry and Mike were also holding hands. Everyone had a good laugh at it.  
“Ah, I see you don't need my help after all...” Jones laughed.  
“Yeah, fate kind of shoved me a bunch.” Terry giggled as Graham squeezed his hand.

 

Over the next few weeks they practiced their sketches and as soon as Gilliam felt up to it he joined them. It turned out to be a lot of fun for all of them.  
This particular day they had just finished the pie throwing “History of the Joke” sketch when John pulled Graham aside.  
“Are you sure its right to have Gilliam in that? He breaks up too much, mugs at the audience...” John said. Graham suspected he was just being over protective of a role he had once played himself.  
Graham put an arm on John's shoulder and looked him square in the eye and said, “You're just jealous because MY boyfriend can swallow an entire banana!” And then Graham just walked away leaving John with his mouth gaping.  
Terry smiled as Graham came over to him, “How was that?”  
“Vance, my darling, you were brilliant.” Graham concluded.


End file.
